The Rule (Paperback)

Tom Marko Has It All. He’s Smart. He’s Confident. He’s on Top of the “Bachelors to Snag” Lists.

Did I mention he’s a self-made billionaire and pro basketball player with a body to match?

But he doesn’t just want me to run his PR & marketing.

He’s made it clear that he wants me...all of me.

He knows my one rule—never date clients. And I don’t make exceptions.

But Tom Marko goes after what he wants.

The minute we meet his clear blue eyes focus on nothing but me.

After he tricks me to spend four days in his Colorado mountaintop mansion, all I want is him.

Everything is different.

The tables have turned. I’m changed, forever.

What’s different with him?

Boundaries are blurred.

Rules shattered.

But Tom Marko has a dark past he’s hiding from me—from everyone.

Now, it's determined to destroy him. Destroy us. Destroy everything.

After knowing the truth, can I really be all in?

Tom Marko

Olivia White was fifteen minutes early, a trait that got my attention and gave me fifteen extra minutes of blue balls.

She entered the conference room and glanced around before she gazed up toward where I stood. Her blue eyes pierced me, and I took a step back, forgetting for a moment she couldn’t see me through the blackout glass. 

“I need a few minutes to get set up. Will that be all right?” she asked one of my assistants.

Her sweet voice alone made the hairs on my neck stand up.

“Sure. The adapter is right in the table. Do you need anything else?” 

She smiled kindly at him. “I think I’m good. Thanks, Paul.” 

He left the room, and she turned back toward me. 

Olivia licked then slowly bit her perfectly pink lower lip and surveyed the room. 

My dick pulsed as I wondered what it would be like to feel those plump lips on my own? What would her tongue taste like? Her mouth was one meant to kiss for hours. No doubt, after you got done kissing her, you still wouldn’t want to stop.

I took another step, so I was as close to the glass as possible. 

She walked to the front of the room and glanced up toward the blackout glass again. Did she sense I was here? 

Her perfect, pert breasts rose and fell as she took a deep breath, walked back to the table, grabbed her bag, and pulled out her laptop. She plugged it into the adapter so her presentation would pop up on the big screen. 

Instead of sitting down, she leaned over and typed quickly on the keyboard. Her body hovered over the table as her dress inched up the back of her thighs.

My mouth went dry. Her thighs were flawless. They looked silky smooth, and volts shot up my spine. I could almost feel them squeezing my neck.

When her presentation popped up on the screen, she stood up straight and flattened her dress against her body. A flawless French manicure graced what resembled soft hands, and they glided over her stomach. She ran them over the curve of her waist. Then, as if just to tease me, she pushed them behind her and ran them over her butt and thighs. 

My cock stood at full attention, and visions of what she would look like naked flooded my mind. What would her hands feel like on my skin? Would she grip my hair in desperation to fly?

I studied all of her. Her body was perfect. It would flawlessly fit against mine.

She sat and swiveled toward me then crossed her legs. Her forearm pressed on the table as she leaned comfortably back into the chair and drummed her fingers on the table. Not nervously—more out of boredom.

I gazed down at her, as my pulse increased. My eyes went to her legs, bare between her short heels and the hem of the fitted dress clinging to her curves, and my body became stiffer. As she continued to tap on the table, I thought about how those fingers would feel digging into my back.

She reached up and tucked a rogue strand back into her bun. I wanted to release that messy bun, run my fingers through the cascade of her hair, and tug it so I could feast on her long, luscious neck, made for lips to brush against. What would she sound and feel like vibrating against my mouth? 

My staff walked into the room and snapped me out of my thoughts. She stood up, turned her long, lean frame toward them, shook their hands, and exchanged hellos before she quickly took charge. 

I stood mesmerized, as close to the glass as possible, and listened to her present while hanging on her every word.

Olivia White didn’t just ooze sexy. No, she screamed intelligence and confidence as she presented out-of-the-box yet practical ideas and asked questions along the way. It dawned on me she was bold but not cocky. There was no doubt she knew her craft well, but I sensed she had no idea how beautiful, smart, or sexy she really was.

That turned me on further.

I had seen her online, read about her in the papers, and watched her clean up her clients’ messes in press conferences. Her self-assurance told me she was always in control. I wondered how it would feel to have her under me, shaking and losing all inhibition, whimpering and calling my name from those succulent lips, and begging me to send her to a new high.

My blood had raced through my veins when I saw her in the media. Being this close to her unleashed an entirely new level of desire. 

And I cursed myself. I needed to stop these thoughts. My company required Olivia White’s expertise, and there was no way I would risk putting her in danger. She deserved more than someone with my screwed-up past. I couldn’t and wouldn’t allow myself to indulge in pursuing her. 

No, I needed to stay away. Anything with her wouldn’t be superficial, and there was no way I could give myself the gratification. She was exceptional, a rare treasure, and I refused to expose her to my shameful past.

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